it.’
‘Sophia can tell us that.’
‘Yeah, and probably not until tomorrow or Monday,’ Cantelli said, somewhat exasperated.
‘Even if she had it now, Barney, I can’t see any IT department working on this overnight or on a Sunday.’
‘I guess you’re right,’ Cantelli reluctantly agreed. ‘The security officer is looking out the CCTV footage for me and so are the Oyster Quays security team. I might get them tonight, but it’s more likely to be tomorrow.’
‘You’ll have fresh eyes on it then, Barney.’
‘I know. I just wish there was something more I could do.’
There was nothing, except to issue Johnnie’s photograph to the London police, which Cantelli said he would see to, and Horton knew that would have about as much effect as dropping a grain of sand in a sandcastle. He rang off without telling Cantelli about his guest. There was no need.
‘Drink?’ he asked her.
She held his eyes. ‘Tea would be nice.’
Horton flicked the switch on the kettle and gestured her on to the bench seat the other side of the galley table. She slid on to it, and while he waited for the kettle to boil he relayed what they’d discovered, which didn’t take him long, ending with the fact they didn’t know where Johnnie had gone missing except that it had been in England.
‘Would he have gone missing deliberately?’ she asked.
He turned away to pour hot water on her tea bag and on the instant coffee in his mug. ‘Cantelli swears not. Even if he was in trouble I can’t see him causing his mother so much anguish.’ But as he spoke he thought back to the arson. Johnnie hadn’t given a thought to his mother’s feelings then, although there had been extenuating circumstances.
As he handed her the mug of tea her fingers brushed lightly against his causing a slight hiatus in his pulse. Taking his coffee he sat opposite her, his knees almost touching hers. If he moved an inch he’d connect with her. The music and laughter from outside carried on the night air to them. He said, ‘Johnnie does have a criminal record.’ He told her about Johnnie’s conviction for arson. ‘It was following the sudden death of his father. He got in with the wrong crowd.’
She looked thoughtful. ‘He was easily led astray once, he could have been again.’
‘But the circumstances now are completely different from then. He has a good job, one which he loves—’
‘He might have grown sick of it.’
‘Xander Andreadis told me that he was keen to expand Johnnie’s experience, which was why he was here to race with Masefield, but perhaps Johnnie thought Andreadis was trying to push him out.’
‘And Johnnie decided to jump ship rather than wait until he was pushed.’
‘But why not tell his family?’
‘Perhaps he’s too scared, knowing that everyone will think him foolish for throwing in a good job. Maybe he thought he’d wait until after Cowes Week to tell them.’
‘But that doesn’t explain why his mobile phone is dead.’
‘Perhaps he dropped it and it’s broken.’
She was voicing many of the thoughts he’d had. ‘He must have known that sooner or later during the week someone would start to ask questions about why he wasn’t here for the racing. But Masefield didn’t seem bothered, and if it hadn’t been for Andreadis calling him to wish him luck and asking after Johnnie no one would have known now.’
‘Perhaps Johnnie was counting on that.’
Horton considered this. Was it usual for Andreadis to call up his teams before a race and wish them luck? He didn’t know but he’d like to. He eyed her keenly. Perhaps Harriet Eames could tell him that and more. ‘So, tell me about Xander Andreadis.’
‘What makes you think I know him?’ she asked, eyeing him steadily.
He began to count off on his fingers. ‘One, you’re a Europol Agent and Andreadis is Greek; two, you move in the same exalted sailing circuits where Andreadis is known; and three, why else are you here if, as you say, it’s
‘Sophia can tell us that.’
‘Yeah, and probably not until tomorrow or Monday,’ Cantelli said, somewhat exasperated.
‘Even if she had it now, Barney, I can’t see any IT department working on this overnight or on a Sunday.’
‘I guess you’re right,’ Cantelli reluctantly agreed. ‘The security officer is looking out the CCTV footage for me and so are the Oyster Quays security team. I might get them tonight, but it’s more likely to be tomorrow.’
‘You’ll have fresh eyes on it then, Barney.’
‘I know. I just wish there was something more I could do.’
There was nothing, except to issue Johnnie’s photograph to the London police, which Cantelli said he would see to, and Horton knew that would have about as much effect as dropping a grain of sand in a sandcastle. He rang off without telling Cantelli about his guest. There was no need.
‘Drink?’ he asked her.
She held his eyes. ‘Tea would be nice.’
Horton flicked the switch on the kettle and gestured her on to the bench seat the other side of the galley table. She slid on to it, and while he waited for the kettle to boil he relayed what they’d discovered, which didn’t take him long, ending with the fact they didn’t know where Johnnie had gone missing except that it had been in England.
‘Would he have gone missing deliberately?’ she asked.
He turned away to pour hot water on her tea bag and on the instant coffee in his mug. ‘Cantelli swears not. Even if he was in trouble I can’t see him causing his mother so much anguish.’ But as he spoke he thought back to the arson. Johnnie hadn’t given a thought to his mother’s feelings then, although there had been extenuating circumstances.
As he handed her the mug of tea her fingers brushed lightly against his causing a slight hiatus in his pulse. Taking his coffee he sat opposite her, his knees almost touching hers. If he moved an inch he’d connect with her. The music and laughter from outside carried on the night air to them. He said, ‘Johnnie does have a criminal record.’ He told her about Johnnie’s conviction for arson. ‘It was following the sudden death of his father. He got in with the wrong crowd.’
She looked thoughtful. ‘He was easily led astray once, he could have been again.’
‘But the circumstances now are completely different from then. He has a good job, one which he loves—’
‘He might have grown sick of it.’
‘Xander Andreadis told me that he was keen to expand Johnnie’s experience, which was why he was here to race with Masefield, but perhaps Johnnie thought Andreadis was trying to push him out.’
‘And Johnnie decided to jump ship rather than wait until he was pushed.’
‘But why not tell his family?’
‘Perhaps he’s too scared, knowing that everyone will think him foolish for throwing in a good job. Maybe he thought he’d wait until after Cowes Week to tell them.’
‘But that doesn’t explain why his mobile phone is dead.’
‘Perhaps he dropped it and it’s broken.’
She was voicing many of the thoughts he’d had. ‘He must have known that sooner or later during the week someone would start to ask questions about why he wasn’t here for the racing. But Masefield didn’t seem bothered, and if it hadn’t been for Andreadis calling him to wish him luck and asking after Johnnie no one would have known now.’
‘Perhaps Johnnie was counting on that.’
Horton considered this. Was it usual for Andreadis to call up his teams before a race and wish them luck? He didn’t know but he’d like to. He eyed her keenly. Perhaps Harriet Eames could tell him that and more. ‘So, tell me about Xander Andreadis.’
‘What makes you think I know him?’ she asked, eyeing him steadily.
He began to count off on his fingers. ‘One, you’re a Europol Agent and Andreadis is Greek; two, you move in the same exalted sailing circuits where Andreadis is known; and three, why else are you here if, as you say, it’s
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